To dwell on dreams
by Cheekbonesandcoatcollar
Summary: "It does not do well to dwell on dreams Harry and forget to live". When Harry looks into the mirror of Erised, he sees Draco Malfoy and thinks that maybe the Slytherin may have been his most desperate desire all along. Post-War! H/D One shot


**To dwell on dreams- Harry/Draco**

**Summary: It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live. When Harry looks into the mirror he sees Draco Malfoy and thinks that maybe the Slytherin may have been his most desperate desire all along. Harry/Draco**

**A/N: This is my first Harry /Draco fic, first Harry Potter in general so there may be mistakes! Hope not though! Please let me know if there is! Reviews would be appreciated! Thank you!**

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"_The happiest man alive could look into that mirror and see only himself as he is."_

Harry remembered Dumbledore's words as clearly as if the headmaster were speaking them now. Years ago, almost seven to be exact, at the tender age of eleven he had stood before this mirror, the mirror of Erised, countless times, staring incessantly at his reflection, next to which stood his mother, healthy and smiling, and his father, a gleam in his eyes that told him 'I'm proud of you son.' Days, nights, whenever he could spare time, he would sit and watch them, the three of them, a family, he would watch the two people who had been so violently ripped from him before he had ever had a chance to know them and for those sparse and rare times he felt happy. He would watch as the reflection showed him all he was missing, his family, the life he never had, where his mother and father told him of magic from a much younger age, where they celebrated his birthdays and other holidays and where he was as loved as his cousin Dudley had been with his own parents. It was this reason that Harry hesitated now, standing just off to the side of the mirror that was still standing in Hogwarts where Harry and first faced off against Voldemort and 'p-poor old p-professor Quirrell'. At the age of nineteen Harry believed himself to be a happy man. He believed that were he to look into the mirror now, he would see only himself as he stood in his eighth year robes, his old wire glasses still faithful and a content gleam in his eyes that came from finally defeating your mortal enemy and saving the wizarding world. Sure, he knew there were things about his life that weren't perfect, he didn't sleep very well, still plagued by nightmares, the dead faces of friends and foes alike, the blood seeping through Hogwarts broken floors, the moment Voldemort finally succumbed, if he were to look into the mirror he would probably find that his deepest desire was simply a big fluffy bed and a few weeks in which he could do nothing but sleep peacefully. Though he believed this with all of his being, though he was sure to the heavens that he was as happy as he could be, he still hesitated to step in front of the mirror. He had been exploring Hogwarts, remodelled after the war, that night, unable, for the life of him, to sleep and he'd found himself subconsciously making his way down here, all of the obstacles that he and his friends had face on their way down here in first year removed now that the sorcerers stone no longer existed to need its protection. Fluffy now living somewhere closer to Hagrid and the murderous chess game completely gone. This time the travel was calm and no one interrupted him, which was all the better, usually when a student accosted him they either wanted an autograph or were one of those who had fought and lost people and though they talked the same as ever Harry could clearly see the loss and sadness and shock that still remained with them.

Despite this, Harry was happy. Of course, he grieved for the fallen, both students, order members and even those few muggles who had been aware of everything. But, everything had gone right, Voldemort was dead, his followers accosted, jailed, gone for good, Hogwarts, rebuilt and reopened with a new headmistress. On a more personal note, Ron and Hermione, having finally confronted their feelings for one and other, a war could make you do that, were happily together and Hermione was more of a slave driver then ever when it came to his and poor Ron's studying. Ginny, was happily dating another boy Harry hadn't met yet, since they had both mutually agreed that their relationship was going nowhere and they were much better off as friends. Fred and Georges business was more blooming than ever, the aftermath of a war was an ideal time for some happiness and joking pranks. Other students, Order members were finding their way, studying hard and falling in love. People were happy. So Harry was happy too. Harry knew he was happy. He would look into the mirror and see only himself. Yet, he still hesitated next to the damned thing.

"What is it that I'll see?" Harry mused aloud, stepping softly in front of the mirror and staring at himself, "Maybe top grades on my final exams?"

As Harry glanced at his reflection, the face he knew so well, he saw, not himself graduating, not himself smiling with a new Auror job, not himself married with children, just himself stood there, the way he was. "Maybe I am the happiest man alive?" he wondered, frowning slightly, "I guess I don't need anything after all." Yet, as he made to turn away something else caught his eye, a shadow behind him. Of course when he shot around there was nothing so he figured it had something to do with his desires. Back in the mirror the shadow began to form behind his own reflection, familiar yet so different. A hand, pale, slender, elegant, fingers like a pianists, gently clutching his left forearm, another arm snaking around his waist, gently stroking his chest and stomach, a loving gesture that Harry thought he had never before experienced in his life. Legs in the same black trousers as Harry himself wore, appeared behind him and a head, face nestled into the crook of Harrys neck and shoulder, a head, shocking white hair so familiar, hair that looked so soft and Harry felt that he could just reach forward and it would be real but of course all he would feel was the cold glass beneath his finger tips. The Harry in the mirror closed his eyes against what was probably the other mans, and the fact that it as another man didn't surprise Harry as much as it should have, lips against his neck and throat. The other man, and of course Harry had a pretty damn good idea who it was already, raised his head slightly and steely, endless grey eyes stared out at him. The facial expression, the regret and sadness in those pools of grey were the same as Harry had seen since their return to Hogwarts, the same he'd seen at the trial where he had personally vouched for Draco Malfoy when the ministry and order had wanted him jailed along with the other death eaters in Azkaban. The same that he saw every day in lessons when Draco had been picked out by a teacher, to perform a spell, the blonde shrinking away from the glares of disgust from most students or the simple adoration which the Slytherins still sent his way. Draco Malfoy was a changed man, he was still rude and would stand up for himself in anyway possible in any situation, but he no longer bullied people, he no longer drew any attention to himself or the people around him. He no longer accosted Harry and his friends in the halls, or laughed when something bad happened to other people like he had before. He was just, there. Learning and living. Sure he was different and Harry had seen a completely new side of him since the war but that didn't mean he desired him or wanted him in any way. That was ludicrous, ridiculous, completely and utterly ridiculous. And yet, there he was, his reflection snuggling himself closer to the Slytherin, a small content smile on his lips, a hand moving up to hold the paler one that stroked his chest. The image of love. Love. Malfoy. Ridiculous. But, Dumbledores words took his arguments and blew them to smithereens, _"It shows the deepest and most desperate desires of our hearts."_ Draco Malfoy? Was it possible that some desires were so deep and desperate that even those who held them had no idea they existed? Because Harry did not desire Draco Malfoy… at least not that he knew of.

"Harry, mate?" Rons voice called from the doorway at the top of the stairs, "What you doing?"

"Just looking," he replied.

"You see anything?"

"No." he lied without second thought, "I guess I've got everything I want now." He didn't like lying to his friends, but, he could hardly look up and say ' Actually yeah mate, I saw Draco Malfoy all over me.' That wouldn't go down well. "What are you doing down here anyway?"

"I was using the map, saw McGonnagals making rounds, saw you were here, brought your cloak so we could make it back without being caught. You've been here ages, we were meant to be in bed an hour ago." he explained, holding the invisibility out to its owner.

"Thanks Ron. You gonna take a look?" he gestured to the mirror and the red head shook his head.

"Nah. If there's anything I want, I cant think of it off the top of my head so it cant be that important. I'm happy how I am mate." Harry smiled and swung the cloak over himself and his best friend, the squeeze was tighter now they were much larger and Harry wondered as they quietly made their way back to the dorms if it would have been better for him to have not looked into the mirror and seen the blonde Slytherin prince staring back at him, he wondered if he would ever be able to forget what he had seen.

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Harry was back again, he didn't know why, this time he wore his bed clothes and he had brought his cloak himself in order to make it here unseen. He had promised himself, for days, that he would not return despite his biting curiosity, the sort of sick fascination he held with the memory of Draco Malfoys form wrapped around his own. He had promised himself that he would not torture himself with the ridiculous image that could, No. Would, never be true. It was a ridiculous thing to imagine or to even desire and Harry was adamant that he did not desire it, maybe the mirror was faulty, maybe if he looked again he would see something else and be assured that no, he wasn't crazy, the mirror was having an off day or something. It was this resolve, that if he looked again he would see something else, which had brought him down here again he realised. As he stepped in front of the mirror, he braced himself, and _Oh God_, once again the blonde appeared before him, and the Harry in the mirror turned to Draco with a blinding smile that Harry had never shot the Slitherin in real life. This time, to Harrys perverse fascination and shock the mirror Harry pulled the blonde towards him, and it was as if their bodies melded together, as if they had memorised every line and contour of the other as they melted into each other, their lips met, pale pink on the darker pink of Harry's own and it was right and it was normal, at least to them in the mirror because this was not what Harry desired. It couldn't be. Yet he felt himself dropping to the floor, sitting, eyes still trained on the mirror before him, as he watched himself essentially making out with someone he had been rivals with since he was eleven. And then the couple… not couple…the boys in the mirror, moved, changed and they were in the great hall, and the tables were thriving with happy excitable students and Harry focused his eyes on his own table, much to his surprise, there say he, Hermione, Ron, Neville and the usual Gryffindor group and also, in the spot next to Harry the same blonde headed, sad eyed boy, eating at their table, chatting with Hermione who he had often, so vehemently called mud-blood, conversing with Ron with ease and comfort, one of his slender hands brushing against Harrys own as they ate, and eventually entwining his fingers with Harrys, pale against tan. The Harry in the mirror smiled and Harry, as he watched, found himself smiling too.

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The third time Harry looked into the mirror was three days later, he'd been, secretly of course, watching the real life Draco in class and in the great hall and had seen nothing of the Draco he saw in the mirror. No blinding smiles, no gentle looks, in fact it seemed to Harry that the blonde was doing all he could to avoid him. He also had no idea when he'd began calling him Draco instead of Malfoy, but he thought it seemed right as apparently _Draco_ was his deepest desire. He had also, as he watched him, noticed other things too, like how the light would catch the white hair in a certain way and the way it seemed to glow, like the way his eyes were endless, unfathomable pools and gleamed in a way Harry had never before noticed. He noticed how as the Slytherin prince smiled at a joke one of his fellow housemates cracked it didn't quite reach his eyes the way it had before the war. Harry told himself he wouldn't ponder the reasons as to why he was suddenly studying the other boy.

In the mirror, Harry who was once again sat cross legged before it, saw himself and of course the Malfoy heir, lying spent, naked, covered only by the cold white sheets that Harry recognised as his own bed, glistening with sweat. Draco, white hair plastered to his forehead, whispering something Harry cant hear, and mirror Harry reaching between them, grabbing Dracos slender arm, pressing a kiss to the knuckles, running his fingers over the stark black mark that had been Dracos past, a blinding contrast to the taller boys pale skin. Harry watched, fascinated, as his own lips pressed a delicate kiss to that mark, a form of acceptance that Harry had never believed he could feel in real life, yet as the scene before him changed, he found himself thinking that maybe it could happen. Now he could see the winter snow reflected before him, the white layering the castles many surfaces, Harry lying in the snow and Draco right there with him, holding tightly to his hands, straddling his waist with a wicked grin. Then he saw Hermione and Ron, Hermione lunging at the blonde and just as Harry thought it might be a fight he was witnessing he realised that the Harry in the mirror just laughed and as the muggle born and the pureblood hit the ground they were laughing too. Soon the group was joined by the twins, by Ginny and by Mr and Mrs Weasley, all of whom greeted Draco as if he were part of the family, as if he had been there all along. As Harry watched his desires unfold before him, he smiled, gently placing his fingertips on the glass, maybe, just maybe, the mirror wasn't faulty after all, because Harry wanted nothing more than for everyone to be accepted. But even though Draco had changed and Harry had recently realised he was very handsome, didn't mean he desired him. No. Harry still preferred denial.

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Denial. A sweet thing. Something that should have, for all intents and purposes, kept Harry from visiting the mirror again and again, night after night, in all his spare time. But, as it goes, it didn't stop him at all. Over the next few week Harry stood before the mirror whenever he could, watching as his life with Draco, his desires unfolded. It was late one Thursday night or early on a Friday morning, he couldn't be too sure, when Harry decided three things. One, he would finally admit that yes, now everything was in retrospective he did indeed desire Draco Malfoy, the years of bickering and rivalry and now something else, a tentative friendship, comradery that came with fighting the same war on the same side. He could no longer deny the way he stared, probably quite obviously in lessons, the way it sort of hurt a little that Draco was still ignoring him more than usual, which was a lot considering they no longer argued like they used to.

Secondly, at the insistence of more remembered words from Dumbledore, he had decided that it was in fact completely unhealthy to keep visiting this mirror and seeing before him things he could never really have, could never even try to initiate in real life.

'_It does not do well to dwell on dreams Harry and forget to live.'_

Harry knew this was what he had been doing, neglecting his studies and his friends and his free time to come down here and stare at himself and Draco in stages of their life that could never be real. If he wasn't looking into the mirror then he was gawping at the real life Draco and neglecting his lessons that way. It was unhealthy. Thirdly, Harry had also decided that this was the last time he would sneak down here, this was the last time he would stare into the mirror at his desired life and instead live the life he had now, which was almost as good minus the blonde boyfriend. So this time, he stood, hands by his side and waited for the blonde to appear in some form or another and in mere seconds he did, approaching from behind, Harry smiled, waiting for the reflection to notice the other, but the Harry in the mirror did nothing, he just stood, staring back, as if waiting for something. Then the Draco in the mirror took his hand and both reflection Harry and the Harry that stood before the mirror smiled, if he closed his eyes he could almost feel the long, elegant fingers entwining with his own, still soft, unlike his own that were calloused from Quidditch. Harry found himself wondering how Draco, who was also a Quidditch player managed to keep them so soft. Then, he wondered how he could even feel it at all, figuring it was probably just what came from wishing for so long. "What do you see?" A voice, one he hadn't had address him for so long asked.

Harry's eyes shot open, towards the very real voice and very real form of Draco Malfoy who was most definitely holding his hand. _For real._

"Malfoy." he stated, "What are you doing here?" _Holding my hand_.

"When I came down here the first time," the blonde said, ignoring his question, fingers still painfully obviously entwined with Harrys own, grey eyes locked onto their conjoined reflections "it was by accident, I didn't know what this thing did, but I'd heard stories, mainly from first year about how you had desired the stone or whatever, I don't really know the whole story, but I figured it showed us what we wanted. I knew I wanted a lot of things after the war, my family back, my friends, my status, everything I'd lost so I figured this would be the best way to see it." he paused, and his hand tightened on Harrys as if he were trying to keep him where he was, "Imagine my surprise when the only thing I saw was you."

"Me?" Harry squeaked.

"I always wanted you." a deep breath then, "Cared for you even. I was always rude, mean, I think because you rejected me in first year. At eleven, when you've been raised to believe that your families values and beliefs are the only right ones then you don't realise how wrong you are. If our roles were reversed, I wouldn't have accepted the handshake either. I know that now but back then, at eleven, it felt more like rejection, like you were willing to give everyone a chance except me." Harry frowned, that wasn't how it was at all, "Then you saved me, over and over, and you testified for me, got me my wand back, saved me from prison, made it so I could come here again and learn and become whatever I wanted in the future."

"Ma- Draco." Harry started but the blonde shook his head, signalling he wasn't yet finished.

"I thanked you and you said it was okay, you accepted my apologies, when nothing I could do was enough to warrant you forgiving me. But you did anyway. All my life I've never known anyone like you, and when I looked in the mirror and I saw us, how my life could have been if I wasn't me, how I desired it to be, I couldn't look away. I came down here, day after day, week after week. The tonight I saw you coming down here and I had to follow you." he paused, his eyes hadn't left their reflections through his entire speech. "Harry. What do you see right now? Because, right now, your stood with me and I don't see anything."

"I don't see anything." Harry admitted, swallowing the strange lump that had formed in his throat.

"Have you ever seen anything?" Draco asked, "Or do you have everything you want?"

"I see things, every time I come here." He glanced back to the mirror and met his own eyes, "But now," he motioned to their conjoined hands, "I don't see anything."

Harry saw what he thought was probably a spark of hope in the blondes eyes, maybe something else too, a nervous glint. "What did you see?" he whispered.

There was no pause, no hesitation in Harrys reply, "You. Always you." And then, again without hesitation he had an arm around the blondes waist and another reaching up to touch his hair, eyes imploring, gentle as a hand tentatively touched his own mop of raven black hair and another found his arm and as Harry pulled the taller boy towards him and pressed their lips together softly at first, he noticed the Harry in the mirror do the exact same thing, for now, the reflection was just that, a reflection of real life. Harry smiled against Draco's lips as the blonde ran a hand through his hair softly, he guessed that now, he did have everything he wanted.

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**That was probably a shite ending, but I hope you liked it anyways! Please let me know if you can. Hope Draco wasn't too OOC I wanted him to be able to say everything to Harry uninhibited!**


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